He was an upstanding British gentleman, who appeared to be in the age range of late thirties to early forties. The ashy blonde was a former Army doctor who was trained at St. Bartholomew's Hospital and served as a Captain in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. He was deployed in Afghanistan, where the doctor served until he was unfortunately shot in the shoulder, which led to him being discharged form service. However civilian life was not suitable for an adrenaline junkie, which was what directed the war veteran towards becoming the flatmate and loyal friend of a brilliant man named, Sherlock Holmes.
John was a brave, resourceful man who cared deeply for the wellbeing of his family and friends; including his estranged sister, Harriet. Although, that was all the genius detective knew about the tea drinking, jumper wearing crack shot.
There was a lot Sherlock knew about his flatmate, but everything he knew about the good Doctor was what he had found out through the science of deduction and the power of observation. However the self proclaimed sociopath had yet to learn there are some secrets only revealed by asking and a certain amount of trust.
And the one such thing was the Army Doctor's Marital status.
Unknown to the resident genius, was the fact that his colleague was once, in fact, a happily married man.
But now, a widower.
His spouse had been an average British working class woman. Nothing about her was exotic or striking, but there was a classic and traditional feature about her that made people look at her.
Petite and delicately made, she stood a good head shorter than the doctor. Pale blue eyes and champagne coloured hair that fell straight and rested on her shoulders with a gentle flick at the end. But unlike many women, she always wore a carefree, open smile on her face. That was what had captured the Army Doctor's attention.
For a man of war and violence, who had seen the pain and suffering unfiltered, it was a soothing balm on his strained soul. Her presence calmed him when he was in London and her scent, vanilla and black tea mixed with something uniquely hers, would immediately relax him every time she embraced him at the airport after a tour.
John would never wear the wedding ring, because he wanted to protect her from the war. He didn't want to risk being caught and have his wife being used as leverage against him. So instead he wore the simple gold band on a chain around his neck. Even in London he didn't wear it on his finger, except during family events or occasions. Otherwise it remained hanging on his neck.
She never commented on the fact, smiled knowingly and happily wore hers.
Since they were both famous for misplacing small things, despite his military training, when he was in their London home, she would wear his dog tags as he was fed up on wearing them. Unknown to many people, John possessed a territorial and possessive streak in him. So seeing his name on his wife's chest caused a satisfied and content feeling to flood him.
The Watsons had their spats, any normal couple would. However it only stopped at rising of voices and coming to mutually agreed answer to their problem. Every now and then, a spat would end up with a powerful and passionate sense of love making, leaving the pair unbothered of the reason that led to their fight and at ease in each others' arms.
Never the less, every chapter has its end.
Some end happily while others do not.
It was on a chilly Thursday morning, that the good doctor buried his wife in the presence of close family and friends. She had succumbed to the sickness the previous night, but she went with peace and love. Grasping tightly to her husband hand with the remaining strength she had left, Mrs. Watson kissed her husband and spoke of her love she had for him one last time before closing her eyes.
She went with her trademark happy smile.
Subsequently, John slowly packed away her belongings and gave them back to her family. He transferred the ownership of their home to his sister, and moved into a smaller flat. But he kept a few items of hers, such as the tea set they received from her family on their wedding.
It was a simple civil wedding, only the very close crowd was invited. The occasion was held on a warm summer night, where she wore a simple off white summer dress with a light grey design and he wore a pale blue dress shirt and black slacks. It took place in the courthouses of one of their friends who happened to be judge and straight after they all went to their favourite pub to celebrate. It wasn't grand nor was it traditional, but it was filled with love and moreover happiness.
John still smiled at the remembrance, of tag the pub gave them when the bartender announced it to the regular crowd.
"Average Joe finally tied the knot with his Plain Jane."
Everyone cheered, laughed and congratulated them, some even exchanged money.
This was one of the many reasons; John loved London so much and never wanted to live anywhere else. The city gave him so many happy memories for him and he felt closure to his partner. He would visit her grave occasionally lay down an orchid and tell her about his life, who had met, what he had done, how he felt, how much he missed her and his wish for her to be still with him. Other times he would visit their old home and sit down with a cup of tea and look at the old photo albums he had packed away. Harry didn't sell the place, only had the remaining furniture covered with sheets of polythene as well as had other items packed away carefully for preservation.
Despite his refusal, Harry gave him a key and told him he might need it one day.
Seemed she was right for once.
There were days when the detective was busy with his experiments or out creating havoc and on these days is when John Watson would sit by the window of flat number 221B with a cup of tea in hand as well as have earphones gently playing a Beatles song, All You Need Is Love. Smiling cryptically at the bustle of Baker's Street as he recalled how his wife introduced herself when he first met her.
"Judy. Just Judy."
Then he would close his eyes and remember adventures it took for him to become her husband and the many joyful events that occurred in the life they created together after exchanging their vows.
The day that Sherlock would ask him about her, the blonde haired man would tell him. For her memory should be told not t be figured out.
A bittersweet memory.
The memory of,